


Be My Escape

by Asphyxiate



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asphyxiate/pseuds/Asphyxiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ereri drabbles. Mostly fluff, rated M just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

how could he make a mess of him  
rivaille, sitting up among tangled sheets with labored breaths and a flush dusting from the bridge of his nose out towards his cheekbones? gray eyes wide and dilated as his body jerked in a primal response, strong lithe figure looking little more than feather-light  
breakable, tangible, as if he would snap if eren just so much as touched him one more time. a cheap, plastic doll with skin of alabaster whose fake exterior was peeling, melting away— jaeger hesitated to call him corporal now for fear cruel façade would creep across the vulnerability, the subordinacy. as he drew rivaille closer it was only clear that he was terrified of loving him


	2. Chapter 2

he thought about eren. it was, frankly, a ridiculous thing. but rivaille just somehow couldn’t get the brat out of his mind, holding him in the dark and keening behind closed eyelids. rivaille swore he’d never give in, never let the stupid titan have the upper hand, and convinced himself that it was simply a diversion to keep himself from falling apart. because every night the faces of the dead loomed above him, dripping blood and tears onto his paralyzed torso as he struggled to keep his head above the crushing darkness that was threatening to consume his entire being. he was torn all ways from the inside, tearing at empty sheets as he berated himself for living while the others died. they called it sleep atonia but he called living hell. afraid of the dark? in the daylight he staggered mechanically through tragedy after tragedy with a bored expression plastered on his face while underneath he was screaming, pushing up at the mask he somehow couldn’t remove. it was the worst when eren was hurt, disobeyed orders, lost control. every time he hit the brat it was like his inner claws were tearing at the emotionless façade, getting closer and closer by fractions to splitting in two. when the bruised fingertips grazed his arm in passing, he whirled and yelled his anger out, twisted words falling ugly and dead from his lips. he began to tremble, then shake, choking out curses in between sobs because there was suddenly a foreign moisture on his cheeks. rivaille was all angles, bent over and stifling the sobs of a hundred corpses he’d sworn would give him power. he stiffened but did not turn when he felt eren’s hand on his back, slowly and gently digging into fabric while fingers raised his chin. rivaille’s tears felt like blood staining his face. this must be a mistake, he thought, there was no way eren could be this much taller… than him. his body was wracked with a new batch of sobbing as eren’s fingertip traced his cheek, wiping away tears as rivaille bit his lip so hard it bled. the finger moved lazily from the cheek to the corporal’s lips, freeing the bottom from its jagged trap. and then all rivaille could register was eren’s sweet breath dancing along his tears, and lips brushing his briefly before eren held him and let him sob into his shoulder. the brat traced the prominent ridges of rivaille’s spine, marveling at the delicateness of humanity’s greatest hope. rivaille didn’t sleep alone that night. he didn’t see the dead because he was soft and primal and tangled with eren, head buried in the younger boy’s chest, breathing in time to his heartbeat.


End file.
